


10 Letter Lies

by Skaikru1017



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abby being pissed off, Angst, Basically everyone is mad af, Blood, Clarke Being Pissed off, F/M, Hurt, I just want to warn you, I'm Going to Hell, If you're looking for a happy ending, Marcus being pissed off, Nightmares, No Radiation, No one has any chill and neither do I, Once again zero fucking chill, PTSD, Possible Drug Abuse, Self Harm, Someone's probably going to die, Suicide Attempts, The slash definitely doesn't mean what you think, There will be zero happiness, This is not the place, Torture, Trigger Warnings, Wounds, You're all going to hate me after this, alchoholism, i warned you, kabby got problems, no chill, zero comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10440903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaikru1017/pseuds/Skaikru1017
Summary: This is a story of pain, loss, and ultimate sacrifice, just not the way you think. Their love is pure... too pure and the Earth cannot contain it, it tries to tear them apart, break them down, burn them, mark their skin with warnings, but inevitably brings them together more. Love like this is volatile, crazy, and downright dangerous, people seek out true love but don't know the truest of love stories aren't beautiful. They're painful as hell for lack of a better description, so be careful what you wish for.To have and to hold. Until death do us part.





	1. Him

**Author's Note:**

> So, most of you know that all of my other works are fluffy and adorable, this will not be that. No cuteness, no happiness. Nothing. So don't say I didn't warn you. Self Harm and Suicide and any other possible triggers will have warnings at the beginning of the chapters. This story will not have a happy ending.

It starts with  _ him _ , an unknown with dark hair and marked skin. Inked and scarred. Her arm raises, the pistol comes with it. What doesn’t is hesitation or feeling. Just action.  _ See threat, ready weapon, shoot to kill, _ and that’s what she does. The bullet goes through the center of his throat, blood spurting onto her face as he claws at the wound. He takes his last strangled breath, blood trickling from his lips. His mangled body then falls, head hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The sound of bone striking a surface, the only noise that she can hear. 

 

She only feels when the next attacker comes,  _ Jackson.  _ She waits as long as she can, so long the tip of the gun meets his chest. Then everything stops. Anguished cries, tear stained reunions, and  _ it wasn’t you’s  _ come next. A rustling, the sharp intake of air. The weak whimper of ‘ _ Mom’.  _ She holsters the gun, it burns her skin, she uses the other hand to caress her daughter’s cheek. Not wanting to taint her skin with murder.  _ ‘You did it.’  _ Arms envelop her, she returns the gesture, still keeping her right hand from touching anything. They let go, her eyes scan the crowd, settling on him. His hands cover his face, his body tucked into itself, shaking.  _ ‘Go to him.’  _ She does, placing her left hand on his shoulder. He flinches, shoulders shaking more, and muscles tensing. She labels it as shock, but it’s a lie. Told to keep her from crumbling in on herself,  _ there’s work to do.  _ He looks to the object strapped to her side, then to the man on the floor, blood pooling around him.  _ ‘It wasn’t you, you’re okay, we’re okay.’  _ But it was her, the chip was destroyed before the explosion of gunpowder and life ending metal. Hands that heal, love, and care, soaked in blood,  _ innocent  _ blood. 

 

_ I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you again _

 

_ I had those fears myself _

 

_ I tried. I tried to be the good guys. _

_   
_ _ Maybe there are no good guys. _

 

_ Salvation comes at a price _

 

_ Let’s call it hope _

 

_ I can’t do this again _

 

_ A.L.I.E.'s not killing me. You are. _

 

_ We’re in this together _

 

_ You did it, we’re safe _

 

_ It wasn’t you _

 

But it was, and it was for nothing. They’re probably all going to die anyways, this world has no mercy. She gets up and leaves the throne room. She can’t stand those three words anymore, they echo painfully in her mind.  _ It wasn’t you, It wasn’t you, It wasn’t you.  _

 

_I_ didn’t stop Jaha _. I_ took the chip. _I_ almost let Raven die. _I_ told people to take the chip _. I_ shot at my own daughter _. I_ crucified Marcus _. I_ shoved a scalpel into Clarke’s chest _. I_ hung myself in front of her _. I_ killed an innocent man _. Shot him in the throat and didn’t even flinch._ How can someone tell me I didn’t do something, when my hands, my heart, my mind we’re all part of it. How is it not my fault? Her legs have carried her to her quarters and collapsed into her back. The soft furs caressing her skin.She doesn’t feel the pain until the blood smears her face as she wipes it. She’s dug her nails so far into her palm the skin has opened. The pain is a welcome distraction. It always was, especially after Jake. She said she tripped, but the scars on her wrists tell a different story. Her hand rubs her neck, against the bruising. It’s a stabbing shooting pain, clouding her mind. Nerves interrupting the combative signals. Clearing of everything except physical pain.The more it hurts, the less she thinks, but those three words are still burned in her conscience, they won’t ever leave. Liquid escapes her eyes, silently. Weariness overtakes her throwing her into a world without any hope. A life film of horrible choices _unavoidable tragedies_  and blood. Coating her everything. It's not her blood. It's _his,_ Marcus'. Pouring from the gaping holes in his wrists. His screams fill hear head, battling for dominance with those three words. It's Clarke's whimpers next, as she pushes the metal further into her chest. Then dabbing the blood away gently, like she still cared. It ends with the man, the gunshot, and her smile. As she relishes the warm crimson flowing like water in a river. The visions repeat over and over until she's screamed so much the inside of her throat burns more than the outside. _Just another distraction._


	2. Not Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor Alcoholism trigger, referenced self-harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has their ways of dealing with pain, be careful who you share them with and what they are.

The pain in her eyes when he flinches rips his heart in half, but the way she storms out when he doesn’t meet her eye stomps it into the ground.  _ I  _ hurt her. None of this would have happened If  _ I _ didn’t leave. If  _ I  _ hadn’t pushed for that damned election. Self-loathing like this isn’t new to him. He has his methods of  _ coping. _ Relief comes in the form of a sleek silver bottle filled with clear liquid. And no it’s not water. The flask sits on the same table Ontari’s body rests. He reaches for it, ignoring the sticky black substance it’s covered in. A strong hand on his forearm stops him.  _ ‘What are you doing?’  _ The hand belongs to Bellamy. He doesn’t retract his arm when Marcus grabs the container anyways.  _ ‘Dealing with what I’ve done.’  _ The hand moves from his arm to his shoulder, squeezing it gently.  _ ‘That’s not going to help. This isn’t your fault, and there are better ways to deal with thinking so.’  _ He can’t stand looking at him anymore, the marks on his neck, how hoarse his voice is from being 2 seconds away from taking his last breath. He jerks away from his touch.  _ ‘You don’t know that’.  _

He ends up in a random room, sitting on the derelict balcony, feet dangling off the edge. Admiring the streets and how the match the sky color for color. The red of the blood, collecting like rain. The pink of flesh, ripped by nails, swords, and knives. The yellow of unkempt infections running rampant, killing slowly. He takes a long drink, the bottle already half empty. A few drops escape his lips, running down his chin, he wipes it with his wrist. The sudden intense burning startles him, losing his balance almost sends him over the edge. Righting himself, he takes the flask and pours a few drops onto the other wrist.  _ ‘Chancellor Kane?’  _ He takes another drink, ignoring the visitor. Right now he wants to be Marcus, well he actually wants to be drunk, but he’ll take Marcus over Chancellor.  _ ‘Why aren’t you with my Mom?’ _

That gets his attention, he takes a look around, realizing he ended up in Clarke’s room. ‘ _ Why would I be with her, she’s probably asleep?’  _ He gets no response, only the shuffling of feet and a new presence on the ledge. ‘ _ She needs you, you know that right?’  _ He scoffs and finishes pouring alcohol onto his other wound. He hisses at the pain first, then releases a contented sigh. ‘ _ No one needs me, Clarke.’  _ She takes the flask from him, any protest would result in one of them falling off the tower. Knowing he won’t take the chance of hurting someone, she tucks it into her pocket.  _ ‘If not Mom, then Bellamy, you’re like a father to him, to all of us.’  _ Marcus throws his head back in a throaty laugh, almost tumbling backward.  _ ‘What kind of father murders the kid's mother, and locks up his sister for the crime of existing.’  _ He can see the frustration on the girl’s face, it confuses him. Why be agitated with the truth,  _ my truth _ . She sighs, changing the subject, not that it's a better one. _ ‘You’re the only one who could possibly understand this, but how do you deal with killing one group to save another?’  _ He points to her pocket, slipping the flask out of it and taking a long drink.  _ ‘Like this.’  _ She takes it hesitantly but downs the rest of it. Shaking her head as the burn subsides, Marcus laughs again.  _ ‘You should probably get inside before it kicks in, the Chancellor would kill me if anything happened to you.’  _ She caps the flask, handing it back to him.  _ ‘You should do the same.’  _ Marcus just shakes his head, doing his best to look sober.  _ ‘I’ll be fine this isn’t the first time I’ve done this or the last. I will, however, pick a different ledge.’  _ He can see the patience crumble behind her eyes, he got the same look every day back on the Ark. He drunkenly smiles at how similar Clarke and Abby really are, but it doesn’t show on his face, and it fades quickly.  _ ‘Off  **now,** this isn’t healthy. Our people need you whether you believe it or night. I will not have our Chancellor falling off a cliff.’  _ He goes back to ignoring her, wishing he’d picked a different room.  _ ‘I’m not the Chancellor.’  _  He feels a hand on his jacket collar, pulling him to a standing position. She moves him to the couch in the corner of the room, allowing him to fall face first into it.  _ ‘I’ll be back, don’t even think about going near that ledge.’  _ He can hear the door close and the lock click in place. Knowing he just got grounded by a teenager.

 

10 minutes later the door opens and something that feels like a pebble is flung at the back of his head.  _ ‘You ignorant asshole! What happened to we’re in this together!’  _ He recognizes the small object that has now fallen down his shirt, the chancellor’s pin. He sits up but falls back down when his vision starts to swim, the alcohol reaching its full effect.  _ ‘I hhaveno,”  _ he burps mid sentence,  _ ‘Idea what yer talkin bout.’ _

 

_ ‘I come looking for you, only to find out that you’re getting drunk off your ass 500 feet from the ground,  **not caring** if you fall and die. Telling Clarke that  **no one needs you.** Even worse telling her that alcohol is a good way to cope with pain. What the hell is  **wrong with you.** ”  _ He can feel the tension rising in the room, they’re back to their old ways, and he really isn’t in the mood to be scolded.  ‘ **Oh** ! And  **your** _methods_ _are any better!? Go on, show her your arms, you and I both know you didn’t **trip!** ’_

 

‘ _ Oh, and  **your** any better Mr. Salvation comes at a price! You’ve cut too, you even asked Jaha to do it for you. Not strong enough to do it yourself are we?’  _ Clarke steps in between them, sticking her arms out to her sides. Trying to keep them away from each other’s throats. ‘ _ **Enough** ! Both of you, where the hell is all of this coming from?’ _

 

_ ‘His blatant disregard for the people who love him!’  _ Gloss covers her eyes, trailing down her cheeks. They’re both screaming loud enough that a crowd has gathered at the door.  _ ‘ **No one** Loves me, Abigail! How can you not see that!’ _

 

_ ‘ **I** loved you, you IDIOT! But I guess that’s not  **enough.** ” _ And then she was gone, he slipped the glass container he had hidden in his waistband out. Downing it in one go, then shoving it against the wall. Shattering it, glass cutting his hand and face.


	3. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you have any idea what you're doing to her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else hopping on the angst train? Toot Toot!

His head was throbbing and his wrists burned. The short moment he did open his eyes to look at them, the twinge of yellow on the surrounding skin made him groan. He probably shouldn’t have  _ cleaned _ his wounds with blood tainted alcohol. A knock at his door, well Clarke’s door. She kept him there with guards at the entrance.  _ ‘Sir, the people need their Chancellor to lead them home.’  _ It was Bellamy, his footsteps increasing the throbbing behind his eyes.  _‘Then why are you in here? Go get Chancellor Griffin.’_ He spits the words, he didn't mean to sound so harsh, but he doesn't correct himself. Two sets of hands grab his jacket, pulling him into a sitting position making his head swim. Then his stomach. Something cold and metal is placed in his lap, a bucket, he uses it. Emptying the contents of his stomach violently. He can hear multiple voices around him, but his eyes are screwed shut.  _ ‘Teik em kom fisa.’  _ His body starts moving, his head still throbbing. Eventually, he’s picked up and laid down on what feels like a cot.  _ ‘Heda Markos kom Skaikru.’  _ Marcus can hear someone rustling around him, he recognizes the voice instantly.  _ ‘Mochof, yu may bants nau.’  _

 

‘ _ Good morning Chancellor.’  _

 

_ ‘I’m not Chancellor Marcus.’  _ He opens his eyes but only to give her an annoyed look.  _ ‘Do you remember anything from last night?’  _ Of course, he remembers.  _ ‘Everything.’  _ He wasn’t drunk enough to forget, he wished he was. He just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. For people to stop caring so that everything would be easier. ‘ _ This would be so much easier if no one cared.’  _ He can hear something clatter to the floor, but he doesn’t see it. He’s staring at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. She picks up the object and takes his hand.  _ ‘Marcus, please look at me.’   _ He looks down at their now joined hands. Her thumb is rubbing circles on his palm. ‘ _ I can’t. _ ’ She drops his hand, it lands painfully and he grunts.  _ ‘Jackson, I need you to look over his injuries, I need to find Clarke.’ _

 

* * *

 

 

_ ‘Do you have  _ **_any_ ** _ idea what you’re doing to her?’  _ His anesthetic is just wearing off. He had to be sedated for Jackson to treat his infection. His eyes open to find Clarke, staring at him like committed murder.  _ ‘Well, _ **_do you_ ** _?’  _  Her glare is ice, he shakes his head and rolls his eyes at her. _ ‘You gave her a mental breakdown. You gave Abigail fucking Griffin a  _ **_mental breakdown_ ** _. Do you know how hard that is?’  _ Impossible, it’s impossible Abby doesn’t break.  _ ‘Look at her Kane, Look. At. Her. We had to sedate her she was losing it so much.’  _ He turned his head, and there she was. Lying peacefully asleep in the bed next to his. _ ‘You’re putting her through hell, she loves you and you’re pushing her away. If you think you’re helping her, your not. Don’t make her go through this  _ **_again._ ** _ ’  _ Marcus just stares at the still sleeping Abby, not moving.  _ ‘I’ve done things, things she shouldn’t have ever had to go through. It’d be selfish of me to forgive myself for those things. To allow myself to feel the way I do about her. I don’t deserve her.’  _ Clarke’s posture goes rigid. Her fists ball up at her sides, he can see her fingers twitch. She’s itching to throw something at him.  _ ‘Your right, you  _ **_don’t_ ** _ deserve her. But I’ll be damned if I can’t get you to understand she wants  _ **_you._ ** _ I don’t see her having breakdowns over me or anyone else ever for the matter. But if it really is your goal to protect her, you’re doing a pretty sucky job.’ _

 

* * *

 

Marcus had never been a heavy sleeper. He’d never really slept much for the matter, but he slept lightly nonetheless. Although this screaming would’ve woken anyone up. His eyes snapped open, the only other person in the room was Abby. The one who was writhing between her blankets. Holding onto them for dear life, as tortured cries escape her body.  _ ‘Marcus…’  _ It was hardly even a whimper. She started screaming again, but not just sounds words.  _ ‘No… No …  _ **_No_ ** _ please, not him….  _ **_Nooooo_ ** _!”  _ She bolts upright, jumping into his arms. It takes a few seconds for him to adjust and return the embrace. Her forehead meets his, her breath hot on his face, still breathing heavily. She’s still clutching to him tightly like she doesn’t believe he’s real. So he does the only thing he knows will prove he’s real, he kisses her. She responds immediately, hands tangling in his hair. On kiss turns into two, then kiss turns into kisses. Then he can hear her breath catch in her throat and she shoves him back. Her eyes wide with fear. ‘ _ No, you're not real. This…. this isn’t real. I..I killed you…. You were going after Clarke, I h-had to s-shoot you.” This .... it's just another nightmare.'  _ She was still clutching his jacket, but only to keep him back. She shudders and runs out of the makeshift medical tent, slamming into Clarke and knocking her back a bit. He just stands there, hands still hanging where they once existed on her body, his eyes a mix of desire and horror. Clarke comes up shoving a hand into his chest.  _ ‘What the hell did you do to her.’  _ Words have escaped him, he just stands there, still unmoving.  _ ‘Say, something, don’t just stand there.’  _ Bellamy walks in, seconds later, he’s guiding him back down onto his cot.  _ ‘Marcus, just tell us what happened.’  _ He finally regains control of his mind and body, the first thing he does is run his hands through his hair. Basically, anything to keep himself from having to explain.  _ ‘Marcus, we can’t help you or Mom if you don’t tell us what happened.’  _ She talks to him like a child, it’s oddly comforting.  _ ‘She had a nightmare, she woke up screaming. I tried to help her,’  _ He can’t help the tears spilling slowly from his eyes, nor the blood from his wrist when he punches the metal stretcher.  _ ‘This is  _ **_your_ ** _ fault, None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t told me to help her!  _ Marcus jams his hand into his pocket. He storms toward Bellamy shoving a hand into his chest.  _ ‘The people need their Chancellor to lead them home!  _ He then shoves through Bellamy, almost knocking him to the ground. The Chancellor’s pin drops to the floor with a faint clink.

 


	4. Dr.Griffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Yeah. This one isn't as angsty, but someone who shall not be named put me in a fluffy mood so yeah. All I'ma say is shit happens.

_ ‘Hey, how ya doing?’  _ Her mother sits, knees drawn up to her chest, drinking a cup of calming tea. Her eyes fall on her daughter, standing in the doorway, she pats the spot on the bed next to her. Clarke sits cross-legged in front of her mother, smiling at the lack of terror in her eyes. Not that Abby  knows why she’s smiling, but she smiles back anyways. She sets her cup down, opening her arms to embrace her daughter. Clarke gently pushes her back until she lying down, her mirroring Abby’s position a few inches apart. She silently invites Clarke closer, enjoying the calmness of being next to those you love. Until the cool metal meets her thigh. Something squeezes in her chest, her heart begins hammering inside her ears when she sees the holster pressing into her skin. The shiny silver of the barrel, the heft of it as she raised it. The crack of the explosion, smoke filling her lungs, then the  _ blood.  _ The horrible iron smell, coating your tongue with its profuse coppery taste. Tainting the air with the odor of death. She shot up, backing frantically away from weapon. It feels like she's in a vise, fear pressing down on her chest. Constricting her lungs and turning something as simple as breathing into a desperate struggle.  _‘Hey, shhh it’s okay, what’s…... ‘_ Clarke reaches out a hand, but Abby backs away from it, still looking like a caged animal.  Clarke’s gaze follows her mother’s to the spot on her hip. It’s the same gun,  _ of course it’s the same one,  _ but Clarke doesn’t know this. To her, it’s just another part of life, it’s become her right hand. With her always, ever present like a threat to their survival. She takes it out of it’s holster, slowly, like she’s diffusing a bomb. She pulls the clip out, emptying the bullets into her hand, and reluctantly throwing them out the window.  _ ‘See? Nothing to worry about anymore. It’s harmless,’  _ She says as she re-holsters the now useless gun. Abby’s still backed into a corner, hands splayed on the walls looking for something to hold onto.  _‘No!.'_ She shouts. ' _No, you don’t understand,_ **_no_ ** _ one understands. That’s the gun that killed Marcus.  _ **_I_ ** _ killed Marcus, he’s dead now. I’ve killed the only two men I’ve ever loved.’ _ Clarke wasn’t talking to her mother anymore, or even Abby. She was talking to Doctor Griffin, a woman of facts and logic. Which is exactly how she spoke, no emotion, no hint at if she was terrified or crumbling inside. No hint of anything really, it's like she was chipped all over again.  _ ‘At least Jake went quickly, Marcus suffered. He choked to death on his own blood, it’s still on my face. I haven’t washed it off.’  _ Doctor Griffin got up, and walked calmly to the bathroom. To wash her lover’s blood off her face. Clarke’s mind was racing. Things were clicking into place,  _ her rushing out of medical, Marcus’ sudden rage. The fear of guns. _ She walks into the bathroom, she’s in the process of toweling off her face, fresh and clean.  _ ‘Mom, Marcus isn’t dead. You didn’t kill him. He’s perfectly….. he’s alive.’  _ Abby’s reaction was pure skepticism.  _ ‘I didn’t realize you cared for him, but it’s not healthy to lie to yourself about another's passing, or others for the matter.’ _ She gently took hold of her mother's arm, guiding her out of the room and towards the door.  _ ‘Clarke, what are you doing?’  _

 

_ ‘Taking you to Marcus.’ _

  
  


_ ‘Marcus is dead.’ _

 

_ ‘No mom, he’s not.’ _ She can she the tension coiled inside her, radiating outwards in waves. Then it just stops, her shoulders sag and she leans into her further. Her eyes fluttering softly open and close, getting heavier and heavier. _ ‘He’s not dead mom. I promise.’   _

 

* * *

 

_ ‘Bellamy, please tell me you’ve been keeping tabs on Kane.’  _

 

_ ‘Yeah, why?’  _ Bellamy laying back, using his arms as a pillow, in his or Kane’s bed, she can’t tell. He points to the bathroom, steam coming out from under the door.  _ ‘He’s got a visitor, how long’s he been in there.’  _ Right on cue, Marcus walks out. A towel, the only thing keeping him decent.  _ ‘Is there something you need Clarke?’  _

 

_ ‘To prove to my mother she didn’t murder you,’  _ she says with a casual shrug of the shoulders. His face blanks and he disappears back into the steam, returning moments later in his shirt and sleep shorts.  _ ‘Where is she?’ _ His entire body was tense, worry and fear created an almost palpable aura around him. At the call of her name, Abby peaked her head around the door. She looked at him skeptically, still not sure he was real. He shot her a half smirk, and for the first time in weeks. Abigail Griffin  _ laughed, _ and not a chuckle, or hollow little sound. A full blown bark of laughter drawn straight from the pit of her stomach.  He uncrosses his arms and she’s wrapped in them in seconds, burying her face in his chest. She steps back just enough to cup his cheek, running her thumb on his stubbled face. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it instantly as a metaphorical nail is driven through her skull. Things start going fuzzy, reality slipping away. She can’t even hear her own cries of anguish. Her legs go weak, the last sound she makes, a tortured and barely audible  _ ‘Marcus..’ _ as she succumbs to the blackness.  


	5. Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self Harm Warning.

Her skin has lost all color, and her breathing is deathly shallow. But Marcus doesn’t notice any of this. He’s focused on how light she is, at least 10 pounds lighter than the last time he held her.  _ ‘When was the last time she ate something?’ Drank anything?’  _ Clarke shakes her head, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.  _ ‘Bellamy, go see what you can scrounge up. Notify Jackson on your way to the market.’  _ Despite the fact Bellamy still wore the Chancellor’s pin, he followed his orders to the letter. Not even five minutes later Jackson burst in, arms full of different medicines and treatments. Marcus didn’t know how long it had been, all he knew was Abby hadn’t moved for a  _ long  _ time. Days was what it had been, 3 to be specific. She wasn’t improving, but she wasn’t declining. Thus far, it had been deemed safe to start the journey back home. He sat with her the entire trip, unphased by the jostling of the rover. He didn’t open his mouth, not trusting himself to muffle the screams he held. His mind was at full volume, though. Telling him  _ she’s just tired, her body’s recovering. She’ll wake up soon. Abby’s fine, she’s here, Breathing and alive. _ Medically alive at least.  _ ‘She’ll be okay Marcus. I know you're worried, I’m worried too.’ _

 

* * *

 

 

7 days, one week, she’s still asleep. He was the one who carried her from the rover to medical and hadn’t left since. They’d tried to get him to go sleep or eat or do anything other than sit and stare. He heard the footsteps behind him, but his mind was too foggy to acknowledge them Strong hands picked him up by the arms, dragging his limp body to the door.  _ ‘Where are you taking me?’ _ he croaked, voice hoarse from under use.  _ ‘Anywhere but here.’  _ Miller Jr, he recognized the voice.  _ ‘Go on a walk, look at the stars. Do something. Shoot a few rounds if you have to, we don’t need them.’  _ Marcus started to struggle, he didn’t want to leave her side. He was in better shape than the two boys. It was easy to break free. Bellamy signaled two more guards, and he ended up handcuffed to a pole. A radio was clipped to his belt, a pistol strapped to his side. Clarke came up, hands suspiciously clasped behind her back.  _ ‘Hold him, don’t let him move.’  _ That’s when he saw the needle. It slid easily into his neck, but he didn’t pass out. Maybe the reaper stick was a dud. Bellamy looked puzzled as well asking what she gave him.  _ ‘Epinephrine. He hasn’t slept much in days, it should keep him awake long enough to clear his head.’ _ The handcuffs were unlocked and replaced with a plastic tie as he was dragged towards the gate. Another tug on his belt and the restraints were cut, his knife tucked back into its covering.  _ ‘Go… relax….. Everything will be fine.’  _

 

_ ‘Bellamy, I can’t just-’ _

 

_ ‘ _ **_Go_ ** _ , Chancellor’s orders.’ _ The gate closes and he can hear it powering up, so he might as well walk away. He doesn’t think he just walks until he can’t hold back the torrent of emotions anymore. He screams until he’s gasping for air, choking on the oxygen he’s trying to take in. His stomach contorts, punishing him for his negligence. A bush, bushes usually have food.  _ Berries, berries are good.  _ He cuts a handful, resting up against a tree. The food runs out quickly, dark thoughts taking its place. There aren’t enough distractions in the forest. 

Marcus doesn’t remember how the knife ended up in his hand. Only the feeling of it piercing his arm. Small, shallow cuts, just enough to feel but not enough to be life-threatening. It doesn’t take long for the action to become monotonous, or Marcus to get more adventurous. He rolls his other sleeve up, making one line, then another, and even more until it’s finished. Maybe if those three words become a physical part of him he’ll believe it. Hopefully, otherwise, they’re engraved into his skin permanently, like a bad tattoo. Night had snuck up on him, not wanting to sleep outside he started stumbling back towards camp. His knife still in hand, still covered in blood.

 

* * *

 

 

Marcus wakes up disoriented and tied down. The only part of his body not currently connected to his cot is his head. Clarke strides in looking tremendously pissed off. She slams something onto the metal stand next to him. It’s a knife, well his knife, his blood covered knife.  _‘Ring any bells, Kane?’_ She growls. _ ‘Why is my knife covered in blood?’ _ She grabs the knife, ripping open his sleeves with it.  _ Guess this is a short-sleeve shirt now. _ His forearms are bandaged, she cuts those off too.  _ ‘You know if you wanted a tattoo, there are better ways of getting one. Lots of pain leaves a permanent mark. Seems right up your alley.” _ It actually sounded like a nice idea, but Marcus wasn’t about to admit that.  _ ‘I don’t get why you’re so pissed off, these aren’t your choices their mine. So if you’d untie me that’d be great.’ _

  
_ ‘You really are an ignorant asshole. What happens if I untie you and you do something idiotic again, what’s Mom going to say about it when she wakes up.’  _ The doors slide open, Bellamy and a detail of other guards walk in, carrying different packs on their backs.  _ ‘It’s time. _ Clarke reveals yet another needle, this one doesn’t go in as gently, everything goes black.


	6. All or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the Angst Cravers. I know there's better but I'm here for you guys no matter what.

_ ‘Why not Bell, give me one good reason not to.”  _ Bellamy had been locked in a heated argument with Clarke for almost an hour. She was hell bent on sedating Kane until they found a way to wake her mother up. _ ’That’s not how we deal with these kinds of things. One unconscious Chancellor is enough, the only people that would help is us.’  _ It had been a brutal drive to the lab, and an even longer boat ride. Both of them were exhausted but too stubborn to drop the topic.  _ ‘It worked for Raven. Saved her life multiple times.’ _

 

_ ‘Raven was chipped, this is different.’  _ Clarke continued pacing, back and forth, curling and uncurling her hands.  _ ‘What are we supposed to do then. There’s zero chance I’m going to babysit him.’  _

_ ‘I don’t need a babysitter, and I’m quite done with being tied down and injected with drugs.’  _ Clarke’s jaw clenches, Bellamy places his hand on her shoulder, signaling her to back down. _ ’It’s for your own safety, Arkadia needs you alive,’  _ Bellamy pauses not sure if he’s about to cross a line,  _ ‘Abby needs you alive.’ _ He sighs loudly, in annoyance or resignation, no one can tell.  _ ‘I appreciate the concern, but if I wanted to die. I’d be dead.’  _ Bellamy’s hands move to the straps securing his wrist.  _ ‘If I do this, you have to swear you’ll talk to someone instead of hurting yourself. If you break the deal, you're right back here. No exceptions, no second chances.’ _ Marcus was hesitant about making that kind of commitment, but it was the only way he was going to get up.  _ ‘Alright.’  _

He wobbles on his feet, their lack of use apparent in his tentative steps.  _ ‘Go walk around, find something fun. Radio if you get lost.’ _ It’s only then that Marcus realizes he has no clue where they are. Clarke steps up, noticing his apprehension. _ ’Raven’s named it science island. Becca used it to try to find a cure for cancer, there’s some pretty advanced med tech in here. Everyone is in the main lab, you can follow if you want.’  _ He does, wandering aimlessly around sounds like trouble. Raven, Jackson, Monty, Harper, Jasper, Octavia, and Nathan were all tapping away at various computers and screens. A slew of other machines Marcus couldn’t even identify littered the room. He was perched on a metal balcony overlooking what he guessed to be the main research area, meaning no one noticed him. He did, however, notice the horrified look on Jackson’s face as he beckoned Clarke to his station. They quieted at his approach, trying to shield him like a child.  _ ‘Don’t even try it, I saw the looks on your faces. What’s going on with her?’ _ Jackson shrank away from him and the words he half spit half growled. He took 3 deep breaths, closing his eyes. Clarke nodded to Jackson at the sight of Marcus’ newly “relaxed” posture.  _ ‘She’s in a coma,’  _ Marcus grabbed the railing so hard you his hands dented the metal.  _ ‘I don’t know why or how. I’ll run a brain scan and a blood test.’  _ Deep forced breaths exited his body as he ran a trembling hand through his hair. Tugging on it sharply.  _ ‘Anyway, I could get that tattoo right now?'  _ Everyone but Bellamy and Clarke looked at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. Clarke covered her face with her hands and Bellamy looked ashamed.  _ ‘Marcus, there’s got to- _

 

_ ‘ _ **_No_ ** _ … don’t…... talking won’t do shit. Octavia, do you have the stuff with you?’  _  He may have had his back to Bellamy, but it didn’t take a genius to know he was silently pleading with his sister to refuse.  _ ‘I always have it, come with me.’  _ The pair disappears down the clean white hallways of the lab, going god knows where, and ending up doing god knows what.

 

* * *

 

 

_ ‘He’s not actually going to do it. He’s mortified of needles.’  _ Clarke’s been pacing for 15 minutes straight. Everyone but Jackson sits watching her, heads moving back and forth in time with her pivots.  _ ‘Is that why you attacked him with them, twice.’  _ Monty elbows Jasper, and Raven smacks the back of his head.  _ ‘She doesn’t use needles.’  _ The pacing stops.  _ ‘It’s a paint, she sketches out the lines with war paint first. Then she applies the permanent coat.’  _

 

_ ‘And how do you know this Bell.’  _ Much to everyone’s surprise, he removes his shirt revealing a ring of what she assumes to be 100 circles, the ark symbol rests in the middle. 57 of the circles are filled in.  _ ‘So it’s not painful?’  _

 

_ ‘No ….. it’s excruciating.’ _

 

* * *

 

 

She’d been outlining the symbols for a good amount of time. The design was going to take up his entire back. A mushroom cloud was the centerpiece, surrounded by the symbols of the 13 clans. The words  _ Gonplei Ona  _ bordering the Skaikru emblem.  _ ‘You’re gonna want something to bite down on, this will hurt like hell.’  _ He extends his marked arm giving a determined look.  _ ‘I don’t care.’  _ Octavia tugs  her collar down slightly, revealing a mix of jagged scars covered in black ink. _ ’Neither do I.’ _

 

* * *

 

 

The burning sensation of whatever the hell was in that ink raged on. Even after the 45 minutes, it took to dry. Each movement of his muscles sent a new wave of powerful heat into his nerves. _It was addicting._ He sauntered into the living area, joining the other occupants. Mind clouded by his pain high. Jasper and Harper looked at him inquisitively. _‘Is it really as painful as Bell says?’_ Marcus smiles grimly. _‘I’m not the person to ask about pain tolerance.’_ Monty see’s Clarke cringing at his words, his eyes traveling to the still angry marks adorning his arms. Raven walks in front of him, crossing her arms. _‘Well, let's see then.’_ His shirt is off in a flash, exposing his _well-defined_ upper body, and the extensive ink merged with it. _‘Damn Kane, you really are all or nothing aren’t you.’_ His reply is cut off by an angered grunt and something heavy clattering to the floor. The producer of the disruption, one sobbing Jackson. Whose keyboard and research papers have been thrown across the room. Shouts of _I can’t save her. I can’t do this anymore,_ fill the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the process of creating "aesthetics" for the tattoo's I described. They should be done in a few days, days because of procrastination. I'll find a way to incorporate them somehow.


	7. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For extra effect, if you love being an extra angsty soul. Listen to this  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzcOPNpKvRY&list=PLTBzn2uYpgqH28ibhU5Nf-eARzrHigL1P  
> This album induced this chapter and formulated the ending. Along with my sadistic torturous mind.   
> Your all going to HATE ME!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self Harm, minor PTSD. Lots of angst <3

So far almost everyone had gotten a shot at calming Jackson down, they were all shots in the dark. They tried telling him the usual:

 

_ It’ll be okay _

 

_ We’ll get through this _

 

_ She’s just fine _

 

_ Abby’s a fighter _

 

_ You haven’t failed anything. _

 

They only seemed to make it worse. Miller steps back, leaving Marcus the only one left.  _ For a reason. _ He can barely deal with his own pain and suffering, let alone someone else’s, but he’s not just going to walk away. He picks the small man up from the floor, wrapping his arms around him. Eric’s body had gone stiff with panic, Marcus is almost startled at how quickly he relaxes into the embrace.  _ ‘Jackson, how closely did you look at the tox screen?” _   Clarke prods, he stiffens again.  _ “Close enough.” _

 

_ ‘So you noticed the ridiculously high levels of melatonin?” _ Only three people in the room understood the medical lingo. Jackson and Clarke obviously, but the stranger of the group. Marcus, no one really knew it, but he was actually a genius. On the Ark, he could’ve had any job he wanted, but he chose the path his father had taken. To make him proud.  _ ‘That means she’s been drugged.’  _ He half relished half hated the bewilderment on Clarke’s face. _ ‘Yeah…. It does.’  _ The enjoyment of their shock dies as he gets more and more impatient with the lack of progress in the last minute.  _ ‘Which also means we just need to counter the drug.’  _ They all just keep staring at him.  _ ‘For fuck's sake would you all please get a hold of yourselves! Yes, I’m smart, yes I understand your med and tech talk. Yes, it’s shocking, but can we please get back to work.’ _ He hadn’t meant to yell,  _ ok,  _ maybe he did, but it worked so.

 

* * *

 

Somehow he’d managed to get over his fear and inject Abby with their proposed antidote himself. Knowing if anything went wrong with the concoction, he wouldn’t let Clarke or Jackson take the fall. Hours passed with no sign of improvement, Marcus remained by her side. Refusing to follow everyone else to bed. A small cough, a groan, and then  _ ‘Marcus..’ _ His heart soared when he saw her eyes hadn’t opened, she didn’t know he was there, yet called for him first. _ ’I’m right here Abby.’ _ Marcus climbs onto the cot with her, tucking her body into his side. An action she happily accepts with a purr of contentment.  _ ‘I thought I told you to wake me up after a bit so I could get back to work.’ _ His entire body shakes with a hearty laugh.  _ ‘God Abby you’ve been asleep for almost three weeks and the first thing you think of is work?”  _ _Mistake_ was all he thought when her body went rigid against his. Eyes snapping open and breathing halting.  _ ‘We have to get to Polis and stop Jaha, Clarke’s in danger.’ _ She bolts upright, jumping out of bed. Tearing the IV from her arm, it starts bleeding and she yelps in pain.  _ ‘Abby slow down! Clarke’s fine, everyone’s safe.’ _ It’s an almost imperceptible shake of her head, a shake of disbelief, they’ve  _ never _ been safe. It’s so quiet he can hear her blood drip to the floor.  _ ‘Let me get you cleaned up and we can go see everyone.’ _ At any other time, she would be enraged by someone speaking to her like she’s a delicate flower. An object that can be crushed by a few syllables spoken a little too strongly, but it’s too true to ignore. Marcus seems to remember the basic medical skills she gave him, he cleans and covers the wound perfectly. Before he can pull away she grabs his wrist, yanking up his sleeve.  _ She picks the wrong arm.  _ His skin is carved and marked like the game birds cooked at grounder feasts. It makes her sick to the stomach. Looking at the marks ALIE inflicted is painful enough, but when she runs a hand along the new marks,  _ his marks, _ cuts she knows are still painful _ ,  _ and he sighs contentedly. She bolts back again,  putting her hands out in front of, trying to keep him back.  _ ‘I did…. that was ….. Marcus….. You… Why?’  _ She’s crying again, a panic attack already taking hold of her. He can’t touch her, can’t console her, can’t even look at her. Once again he’s the cause of her pain, but it’s growing. Becoming a cycle,  a vicious brutal cycle. One of them goes down and drags the other further and further into the hellacious thing that is compassion, undying love. You turn the others pain into your own, and the other does the same, hurting, and inflicting, trying to lessen it. But only making it flourish.

Its a love so violent and raw that it’s possible even deadly. Complete infatuation. The inability to live without the other, to be without them for even a few breaths. It’s never been seen before, never graced this earth, it’s beyond the universe. No explanation can be derived from science or faith. It’s the purest form of love. That’s why it’s so dangerous. Concentrated, and straight from the source. 

 

**_It will destroy them both._ **

 

There is no joyous coming together. This isn’t the tale of the far off princess, whose life has been filled with loss and tragedy, finding her prince. A prince who’s never known what it is to be loved, to feel compassion, he too had been neglected his entire life. No, it’s not the same. 

  
  


**_But it is._ **

 

There’s just no fairytale ending. No happy marriage and singing birds and cheering people.  **_No._ ** They drift apart, they can’t even look at each other. It’s a long silent ride from the island.  _ Chancellor _ Kane stalks off the second his boots hit the ground. _Dr._ Griffin dives straight into her work, ignoring the “Welcome Backs.” The messages of relief and thanks for her safe return fly straight over her. Along with the days. A week passes, by day she’s the perfectly happy lead medical officer. Treating wounds and mending hearts. So is he, the epitome of the well rounded leader. Strong, compassionate and level headed. 

At night, moonshine flows into their system, double, sometimes quadruple, of the quantities of blood, dripping from their bodies. It’s not hard to hide outwardly, it’s getting colder anyways. Long sleeve, scarves, and hoods hide everything, from  _ most  _ everybody. Only when  _ Commander _ Blake issues the order to have every possible harmful object removed from the Doctor and Chancellor’s quarters do people begin to notice. Begin to ask questions. They start to outwardly fall apart, finding themselves in screaming matches with anyone they can sink metaphorical claws into. It’s only a matter of time before everything  **_breaks_ ** .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter, what am I gonna do to these two preciouses this time?!!!!  
> (Maniacal laughter in the background)


	8. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NO REGRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> (Ok it's a lie feel free to hate my existence)  
> JANA PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!

He’s allowed a few daily outings. Any other time he’s locked in his quarters. Which have become essentially baby proofed. Corners padded, the only furniture he has is a table and a couch, and one solitary chair. The bottle of moonshine he swiped is like a tight hug, wrapping him in warmth and comfort. He hasn’t even drank any yet. Like any good boy with a kind mother would, he intends to share. The guards at Abby’s door stiffen at his approach, but they don’t move. Remaining the last roadblock in his path.  _ ‘Open the door.’  _

 

 _‘Sorry, Sir but.’_ Marcus grabs the man by his collar, shoving him against the wall. His voice is steel, and his words are ice. _‘_ ** _Open the damn door!’_** The second guard wastes no time in granting him entrance, too afraid of facing the wrath of Chancellor Kane. Her room is much the same as his, bare and padded. She sits in _her_ single chair, arm resting on the table. She’s staring down at it, flexing her fingers like the hand isn’t hers. He sets the bottle on the table and pulls her onto the couch with him. Something metal falls to the floor, he doesn’t recognize it until she picks it up and holds it in front of her face. The room is dark but he recognizes it, the yellowed cloth wrapped handle, the meticulously cleaned and kept handle. _A surgical scalpel._ He covers the hand holding it in his, she softens into his shoulder, the tears of a defeated soul falling from those beautiful eyes. Eyes that once held the stars, but every last one of those lights has burned out. Darkness taken root, like the tendrils of the Eden tree. _‘Marcus….. I can’t…..’_ He knows what she’s saying, he feels the same way. They aren’t really living, so there’s no point. _‘Promise you’ll take care of her.’_  His laugh startles her, it sounds almost the same as the one Cage had in the mountain. _‘We’re in this together, I won’t let you do this alone.’_ For a moment her grip loosens, and the thought slips from her mind. Just as her hands slip into his hard and her body into his lap. If they’re both going to do _that_ they might as well do this. The kiss is hot and hungry, and for a moment they both consider living. Then her hand slips and the blade knicks his ear. He hisses in pleasure, not pain, and it jolts both of them back to reality. The reality of what they’re about to do. She looks at him, he looks at her, they both nod. She runs the blade expertly across his arm, cutting just right. _I love you,'_  she whispers.  He does the same with her _‘I love you’_ He breathes,  He holds her close, blood saturating their skin, cementing their souls together. A contract sealed in blood, love, and death. Their breath gets shallow, they know what’s coming.  Yet they smile at each other, _it’s almost over_ he thinks. The sparkle has returned to her eyes, he kisses her, wanting to die with the taste of her on his lips. _I wouldn’t want it any other way,_ she muses. His final words form in short breathless gasps as life-sustaining liquid flows out of his body.

  
  


_ ‘In peace may you leave the shore, _

_ In love may you find the next, _

_ Safe passage on your travels, _

_ Until our final journey to the ground, _

_ May we meet again.’ _

 

She smiles and it's the last thing he sees, leaving this world with her hand in his, and lips on hers. Her final words form next, a simple

 

‘ _ We will.’ _

 

Before everything fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to burn, just know that this made me cackle so much, I probably need lots of help.


End file.
